When her horse came, Ruth muttered something to the servant about telling her mother that she would be back in a little while; sprang into the saddle and galloped away, leaving the negro gazing after her with wonderment, and mumbling over the message she had given him.
Blair Cary was one of the best horsewomen in the State, and it was fortunate for Ruth Welch’s project that night that, emulating her friend, she also had become a capital horsewoman, self-possessed and perfectly fearless; else she could not have managed the high-mettled, spirited horse she rode.
Ruth knew her road well, and as soon as she turned into the highway that led to the county seat she let her horse out, and they fairly flew. She passed a number of men, riding all of them toward the court-house, but she dashed by them too rapidly for them to speak to her or to recognize her in the dark. As she came near the village the riders increased in numbers, so she drew in her horse and turned into a by-lane which skirted the back of the court-green and led near the lawyers’ offices. Jumping her horse over the low fence, she tied him to a swinging limb of a tree where he would be in the shadow, and, with a pat or two to quiet him and keep him from whinnying, she made her way on foot into the court-green. There were a number of lights and many men moving about over across the street that ran between the tavern and the court-green; but not a light was visible in any of the offices. Ruth walked down as far as she dared, keeping close beside the fence, and tried to recognize some of the men who were moving about on the tavern veranda or in the road before it; but there was not one that she knew. While she was listening the sound of a horse galloping rapidly came from the direction of the road that led to the railway, and the next minute the rider dashed up. Ruth’s heart gave a bound as she recognized Captain Allen. His coming seemed to give her a sense of security and protection. She felt reassured and certain that now everything would be all right. As Steve sprang from his horse, he was surrounded by the crowd with eager questions. His first words, however, damped Ruth’s hopes.
No, no trace had been found of Rupert. Jacquelin and many others were still searching for him, and would keep it up. No, he felt sure he had not been murdered by any negro—that he had not been murdered at all. He would be found in time, etc. All this in answer to questions.
Suddenly he singled out one man and drew him away from the crowd, and to Ruth’s horror they came across the road straight toward where she stood. She gave herself up for lost. She turned and would have fled, but she could not. Instead, she simply dropped down on the ground and cowered beside the fence. They came and leant against the fence within ten feet of her, on the other side, and began to talk. The other person was a stranger to Ruth; but his voice was that of an educated man, and Steve Allen called him Helford, which Ruth remembered to have heard somewhere before.
“Well, where is he?” the stranger asked Steve, as soon as they were out of earshot of the crowd.
“Somewhere, shut up—hidden,” said Allen.
“Drunk?”
“Yes, and that’s not the worst of it.”
“What do you mean? He’ll turn up all right.”